


Wisdom Teeth Woes

by PresidentGuppy



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Marvel (Movies), The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: M/M, gratuitous whining, h/c, mentions of logan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-07 05:10:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1886316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PresidentGuppy/pseuds/PresidentGuppy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter gets his wisdom teeth taken out. Concerned about Spider-man's lack of a presence in the city, Wade finds out where he lives in a totally not creepy, this-is-sane-thing-everyone-does, sort of way. Shenanigans ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I got into Marvel kind of suddenly and...this is the product of that!

 

It's been a long day, Peter concludes as he swallows yet another set of Penicillin and hydrocodone. He does his best to avoid irritating the new stitches in his mouth, trying to ignore the stiffness in his jaw that screamed infection. His entire maw felt like one throbbing wound, and he had a suspicious feeling that his oral surgeon was lying when he said that his wisdom teeth would _come out easily_ and it _wouldn't_ hurt a bit.

 

He was glad Stark Industries let him have a few days off of work. He’d spent most of the day whining around bloody gauze and ice packs, occasionally taking hour long naps and bothering his Aunt, who had kindly watched over him for most of the day before departing back home with promises of soup  in the morning.

 

Eventually he made his way up the stairs to the room of his open flat, shuffling about to dump his medications on his bedside table and shucking his jeans. Flopping uncaringly onto his bed was both a blessing and a curse; his back delighted in the distinct lack of old springs, but his front protested the face plant loudly.

 

With a muffled groan he’s out in seconds, blocking out the pain in favour of thinking of brighter days.

 

However, It wasn't long until he was awake again, this time to an unwelcome guest.

 

"...ey, Spidey! Hello? Anybody in there?" There's a gentle finger prodding Peter's forehead insistently. A familiar voice knocking around his head that reminded him of nonsense and a little bit of awe. He swats at it sleepily, mumbling into his pillow, wishing for sleep.

 

A few moments more of blind insistence and he gives up, although it’s just a bit longer to process who it was who was standing over him.

 

"...Wade?" Peter squints, trying to focus on the blurry red and black figure. He wasn't having much luck, with the merc’s erratic and unpredictable movements making his eyes roll. Peter could only wonder how he could’ve gotten in, presumably something along the lines of crawling through the window despite how he was on the sixteenth floor.

 

Deadpool kindly squatted down for them to see eye-to-eye, the crease in his mask that only thing giving him away. "The one and only, babycakes!"

 

Peter wants to imagine what his face would be like, but he simply has no idea. Wade has never given himself away, not in all the time they've spent together--though that was, admittedly, thin. The merc often vanished from New York for days to weeks at a time, only to reappear the same as before.

 

He smells like Chinese takeout today; the nice kind you can get downtown if you’re kind to the lady at the counter.

 

Peter blinks at him tiredly before letting out a brief snort. It was just like Wade to just appear when he was down.

 

At Wade's questioning tilt of the head, he says, albeit blandly, "Your head...it's, on fire."

 

There's a pause as the merc stares at him, equal parts befuddled and amused. "...are you on drugs? Doin’ the MJ? Heh, geddit? _MJ_ , like your--"

 

"Nnnoooooooo..." Peter squints some more, realizing it was just the bright light from his lamp against the fabric of Deadpool’s mask.

 

"....Are you _sure_?"

 

Peter pauses, then clumsily points to his jaw. "Wisdom teeth."

 

Wade nods in understanding, patting Peter’s limp arm consolingly. His hand feels strange--even through his gloves Peter can feel odd ridges and bumps.

 

"How many?"

 

The younger holds up his fingers, nearly hitting Wade in the face he was so close. He always wondered why the other was so fascinated with him.

 

"Four, huh? Poor babe," Wade coos, taking the opportunity to briefly hold the clumsy hand. "Is it bad?"

 

Peter's heartfelt ugh was the only reply, partially muffled by his pillow. He wanted to go back to sleep. He didn't know how Deadpool managed to find his home, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to care. His brain couldn't seem to function right.

 

"Hey, who's takin' care of you?" Wade prods at him again, keeping Peter from dozing off. The merc can't hear anyone else in the flat but them.

 

Peter gives a half-hearted shrug of the shoulders. "Jus' me," he yawns, stretching so that he was just nearly touching Wade. "Aunt May left about an hour ago."

 

The merc lets out an intrigued noise, absently playing with his hands.

 

Peter stays limp, head buzzing in delight, though he wasn't exactly sure why. His long fingers curls around wade's, and he enjoyed the small hitch in the other's breath.

 

He liked Wade, that was certain. Despite the other’s oddities and the general aura of danger, he was witty and absurd to the point of hilarity. There wasn’t anyone quite like him, and despite everything the Bugle said about Spider-man, Peter would always remember Deadpool’s cheery flirtations.

 

“No worries!” Again, Wade’s mask crinkled in delight. “Your friendly neighborhood mercenary is here!”

 

Peter made a questioning noise, already half asleep despite his better judgement.

 

“What do you need, baby boy? Applesauce? Jello? Marathon of Golden Girls? Have you even _seen_ -?”

 

“ _Sleep_.” Peter swatted at his babbling face tiredly, doing his best to sound stern.

 

A pause. Wade looked at his hand, seemingly to debate something in his head, before Peter could quite suddenly feel the mischief radiating from his expression. “One bed warmer, coming right up!”

 

The younger was nearly knocked off the bed when Wade jumped to his other side and made himself comfortable, babbling something about his sheets.

 

Confused and rapidly losing patience, Peter rolled over to scold him but was met with a wide, muscular chest.

 

The mercenary really _was_ warm, and the strong arms that wrapped around his waist and curled under his head made him feel safe. Head propped up now at the proper angle the pain in his jaw receded somewhat, and Peter found himself relaxing into the rough hands that wandered into his hair and rubbed soothing circles into his back.

 

The younger would be lying if he said he didn't have a _little_  crush on the other.

 

The muscles of Wade's chest, which Peter had always imagined to be like a brick wall, were actually quite comfortable. He was delighted to find that he fit perfectly amongst the curve of Wade's body, easily conforming to his rough shape.

 

"You _liiiiike,_ web-head?" Wade's voice resonated in his ears with an amused chuckle.

 

Sleep dragging on his mind, Peter hummed in reply, fingers already half-curled into the fabric of Wade's suit.  "...Peter."

 

"Who?" Wade paused, fingers tangled in the younger's hair from which he had been nuzzling happily.

 

"My name," Peter answered drowsily.

 

Wade was quiet for a moment, fingers absently crawling under under his hoodie to feel the smooth skin hidden underneath.

 

" _Peter_ ," he whispered into the darkening room.

 

There was no reply--the other was already asleep, his breath just soft puffs against the mercenary's neck.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter awakens alone, thinking it all a dream. Where had Deadpool gone?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is turning out longer than I had originally planned. Oops?

Spider-man--no, _Peter_ , sleeps soundly throughout the night. His long eyelashes flicker like butterfly wings, and Wade is completely and utterly enchanted by the feel of them brushing faintly across the bare skin of his neck.

 

That is, he was, until he realized that Peter was attached to him.

 

Quite literally.

 

Wade couldn't even put his mask back on.

 

Peter, the merc realized with dawning horror, had somehow activated his spider powers in his sleep. Whatever bare skin touching Wade was stuck fast, the latex of his suit being no exception.

 

_Shit_ , he thought, squirming inwardly. He hadn't been able to sleep--never really did, not when his skin burned with the pain of constant regeneration. It seemed less so, however, with Peter right there beside him.

 

Speaking of which, The younger was a little furnace right next to him, mumbling something intelligible from time to time. He was so close Wade could count the cute little pores in his cheeks, and though the voices in his head were quiet for once, the merc still called himself a sap.

 

He lay there in the dark for several hours, waiting patiently for Peter to simply roll over and release him. Once his favourite leech freed him, Wade was out the bed and making a beeline for the window in seconds, hesitating only for a moment to look back and wonder if the younger would've wanted him to stay.

 

But he had a mission this time around-- pretty boy or no, there was an underground arms race calling Deadpool's name, and he'd be damned if he'd let them get their grimy hands on Stark Tech without at least painting "DP + S-M 5ever" on the side.

 

\--

 

Peter wakes up slowly to an empty bed and cold sheets. The apartment is quiet, the same as always, but it feels a bit _emptier_ somehow. As if something was missing.

 

He thinks about calling for Wade, but the fog in the back of his mind makes him think that last night had all just been a dream--the merc had never actually been there; he'd just been a hallucination of the younger's drugged up mind.

 

_Pathetic_ , a niggling voice in the back of his head whispered. _He doesn't really like you, you know_.

 

Peter shrugged it off, desperately ignoring the sudden ache in his chest.

 

Eyeing himself in the mirror, he feels a rolling nausea in his stomach and wonders whether or not he should go to work. Mr. Stark was quite insistent on him taking time off, though he wasn't sure why.

 

Peter sighs, fumbling with the cap on his painkillers. His rent was fast approaching, and though he was working for Stark Inc, it was only his first year. He didn't make enough to skip work; not yet. Not with a nice apartment so close to Stark Tower, and certainly not with a college debt to pay.

 

He's ready and out the door in twenty minutes, double checking that he has everything he needs before locking up and making his way to the metro.

 

The trip there is surprisingly peaceful. For once his spidey senses are not buzzing in the back of his mind, warning him of the usual mischief makers and perverts crowding the streets and subway. The morning is brisk and clear, the sun shining around the many skyscrapers in the New York sky.

 

Peter smiles up at Stark Tower and gives his usual chipper greeting to the receptionist before taking the main elevator to his floor--the 61st.

 

Stark Tower had 100 floors in total. The latter twenty being used exclusively by Mr. Stark himself and the Avengers as living areas, labs, and entertainment venues. Peter had been on the top floor just once, because Mr. Stark had seen his work and marveled at it.

 

Peter himself was a biologist. Though Stark Industries was focusing on clean energy and the latest technological advances, Tony Stark had opened a small experimental branch to further work in areas of medical science and engineering, and Peter's work in creating medicines and antidotes from spider venom had advanced the most in the department.

 

To be honest, Peter wasn't even sure if what he was doing was really _biology_. He unlocks his lab with the swipe of his keycard and greets JARVIS absent mindedly, instantly getting to work on the latest rounds of experimentation. He spent most of his days playing trial and error with chemicals, mixing strange concoctions out of various medicines and poisons, though some days he had to go through the difficulty of extracting venom from tenacious and exotic spiders.

 

He'd managed to make several antidotes for various spider venoms, but there was only one that he really wanted to work on.

 

Stark Industries had bought out Oscorp and, with it, had all of the scientific findings. If Peter could get his hands on the research his father had been perfecting, he wouldn't have to fiddle with it at home in the dark of his basement with faulty equipment.

 

He was so intent in his work he didn't notice the buzzing in his mind that said his spidey senses were going off until there was a figure knocking on his door.

 

Startled, the scientist could only stare. He'd never had a visitor to his lab before, and the dull buzzing was rapidly becoming shrill, accompanied by the awful throbbing pain in his jaw that meant his medicine had worn off.

 

"An intern would like to come in," JARVIS spoke up politely, breaking him from his momentary stasis. "A Mr. Davis, from bio lab #4."

 

"Oh!" Peter had no idea who that was. He never bothered to meet his co workers, seeing as his lab was isolated into the furthest corner of the floor. He furrowed his brow, eyeing the stranger that was making his spidey sense scream. "...are you sure?"

 

JARVIS was silent. Then, haltingly, an affirmative.

 

Something wasn't right, Peter knew as the door opened. Regardless, he smiled disarmingly and greeted the newcomer with ease.

 

The world didn't know he was Spider-man-- _nobody_ did. SHIELD had been tailing him for months, and yet here he was, directly under Ironman's nose. He was a frail little biologist in a lonely little lab.

 

A perfect target, he realized a little late.

 

"Hello," the supposed intern replied, walking in with hands shoved deep into his lab coat pockets. He had a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Mr. Stark sent me here to collect some of your work for him to look over."

 

_Bullshit_ , Peter growled inwardly. _He'd make me email it to him through JARVIS, or make me deliver it myself._ There was little Tony Stark hated more than paperwork, Mrs. Potts had revealed to him one afternoon.

 

"Is that so?" Peter asked, voice unusually high. "I'll give it to him myself then! I was wanting to talk to him about the finer points of it, better now than never..."

 

"If you say so," the intern was creeping toward his computer. "How about you tell me a little bit about it before you go? I'm a big fan of your work, you know, with the whole... _spider_ thing."

 

"Really?" Peter met him there, thinking fast. "How about you come with me? We can talk about it on the way there, if you'd like." He feigned enthusiasm, taking a hold of the other's arm. "Do you know much about the black widow spider? While it's venom is incredibly deadly, it can be used as a component of its own antidote-!"

 

"Oh, huh, really? Fascinating," Davis said, eyes darting about frantically. One hand remained in his pocket, and Peter barely managed to recoil from a well aimed sucker punch when his senses started to scream.

 

Peter freezes when a gun is pointed at his head.

 

"Better keep real quiet now," Davis grinned, holding up a small usb in his other hand. "And put all of Stark Tech research in here."

 

The flat look Peter leveled him with screamed indignant irritability. He should've known something like this would've happened sooner or later. It had _literally_ been in the job description. Fine print.

 

Peter sighs, shoulders slumping. He had no choice.

 

He takes the usb and, turning to his computer, sets off the alarm once he has it plugged in.

 

"Motherfucker-!" Gunshots ring out as the "intern" makes a grab for the usb. Peter, ever prepared, already has it stowed away in his pocket. He hits the kill switch under the counter of his desk to erase all of the files from his computer and takes a punch to the jaw for his trouble.

 

His vision goes white as pain lances through his bones and leaves blood in his mouth. His stitches have come undone, and the pain left behind by absent wisdom teeth leaves him doubled over and ill.

 

Peter wonders blearily where the security is. Surely they should be piling in by now? He steadies himself on the edge of his desk, blood leaking from his lips.

 

He's abruptly cut short when a blast of pain hits his shoulder.

 

\--

 

Wade hums delightedly to himself as he sneaks through the many halls and floors of Stark Tower. His mission was, for once, going quite well! He had dispatched the main nest of wannabe world rulers with Logan pretty quickly that morning with a few well placed explosions. All that was left were the few stragglers that were making a heist on Stark Industries.

 

Through gathering intel, Logan had found that they were planning on infiltrating the Bio Labs, only one floor out of many and chock full of dangerous looking creatures. Wade was nauseous just thinking about it, but he had a job to do and rent to pay.

 

The floor itself was mysteriously empty; whatever few scientists that had been there seemed to have left for their lunch break.

 

The main labs checked, Wade went throughout the rest, stopping to swear when the alarm went off throughout the building. Had he'd been spotted? He hears a pistol going off. He clutches his twin blades and warily moves on.

 

Wade freezes when he reaches the last lab, one lone gunshot echoing in his ears.

 

Peter is there, eyes wide almost comically in shock.

 

Theres a hole in his shoulder. Wade can see blood streaming from the wound. There's a sizeable bruise appearing on his jaw-- _fuck_ , his wisdom teeth, that must have hurt--and he looks pallid and queasy and _scared_ \--!

 

Deadpool breaks the door down with a roar, swords out and spinning to take the head of the one who had caused his sweet, _sweet_ Peter pain.

 

"Wade?" Peter asked incredulously, gently cradling his aching jaw with shaking fingers. "Wa-hey, stop, you'll kill him!"

 

The merc was too busy pummeling the lackey into the ground to notice. He'd make that fucker pay. The voices in his head screamed in delight, beat him more, kill him, _kill him_ -!

 

He stops when familiar fingers fall on his raised and bloody fist. The voices fall silent.

 

"Stop," Peter's voice wobbles. He takes a deep breath before he continues, stronger, "I don't want you to kill him."

 

The merc's fist relaxes a fraction. He decides that the younger's smile was worth it, and leaves the unconscious body to guide him to sit on the desk, throat constricted.

 

Wade doesn't understand why Peter is so willing to forgive, but he pushes it to the back of his mind to focus on more important things--like the sizable hole in Peter's shoulder that smelled like gunpowder and singed flesh.

 

"That's gonna leave a nice scar," Wade tries, cringing when Peter hisses in pain as he pulled away the fabric of his lab coat.

 

"I've had worse," Peter lets out a shaky laugh. Wade wonders where the worse is, but doesn't ask.

 

He watches in interest as the wound slowly--so slowly, this is so sad it's painful, how can he _bear_ it--closes, the bullet falling out into his waiting palm. It takes close to an hour, but eventually all thats left is some hyperactive scar tissue and some congealed blood.

 

"Nice," he croaks, not really knowing what else to say.

 

Peter flushes in pleasure anyway, though, and the merc is as pleased as a punch to see him smiling shyly at him again.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of the road starts here!

For a while, the lab was quiet. Peter and Wade stared at the destruction of the room, neither feeling inclined to clean the mess. There was shattered glass all over the floor from broken test tubes and windows, and Peters computer was in pieces from when Wade had chucked it at the intruders head in a fit of pique.

 

More destruction was made when Ironman abruptly burst through the doors of the elevator, sending chunks of metal flying across the once pristine white floors. He was followed closely by Captain America, who was a bit more careful with things that weren't his. They zeroed in on Peter immediately, his lab being the only one lit up.

 

"Peter!" Tony sounds relieved, his voice tinny behind the mask. Once he catches sight of Wade, propped up lazily on the counter next to him, he raises his weapons in warning.

 

"Deadpool, step _away_ from the scientist," Steve raises his shield as well.

 

"What," Wade looks wounded. Peter is quick to jump to his defense, however, and assures the two that Deadpool had actually saved him.

 

The two superheroes look at eachother before hesitantly lowering their assorted weaponry, approaching warily.

 

They pause when they see the bloodied man face down on the floor.

 

" _Deadpool_ ," the Captain growls warningly.

 

"...he's not dead?" Wade tries, raising his hands peaceably.

 

Even through the mask Tony's surprise is feasible. "Really?" A quick look-over proves The merc right--unconscious, possibly in a coma, but definitely not _dead_.

 

"That's...unusual for you, Wade." Steve says cautiously, carefully navigating his way past broken glass and computer parts. He stops just short of the mildly damaged desk, finally noticing the blood-stained hole in Peter's lab coat.

 

"Are you alright?"

 

Tony's head shoots up from where he'd been running diagnostics on the comatose man on the floor. "Peter?"

 

"I'm fine!" Peter tries to wave them off. "It missed, don't worry."

 

The billionaire slumps in relief. "Oh thank god. Pepper would kill me if her favourite boy keeled over from a shot to the chest."

 

"Shoulder," Steve corrected, eyes narrowed. "You _were_ shot, weren't you?"

 

"What? No, I wasn't! I'm not bleeding or anything. Seriously i'm fine _don't_ _touch_ _me_." Peter glances at Wade for help but only received a baffled look.

 

The Captain ignores his nervous babbling, comparing the hole in his clothes to the new scar underneath and giving him a stern look.

 

Peter flinches under the unwavering gaze. "Okay, I was, but I'm fine, I just heal fast is all--" his flailing was getting him nowhere, by the unimpressed look Steve was giving him.

 

"Peter," Tony cuts in, pulling off his mask to pin him down with a stern look that disturbingly mirrored the captains. " _What_ _did_ _you_ _do_."

 

"Nothing! I mean, it wasn't _my_ fault--"

 

"OH!" Wade abruptly cuts in, jaw slack in shock. "They don't know you're _Spider_ - _ma_ \--"

 

"WADE!" Peter wailed, " _Shut_ _up_!"

 

"Oh shit that was supposed to be a secret? Fuck. My bad."

 

Tony looked about ready to have a heart attack, if the hand clutching at his arc reactor was anything to go by.

 

Steve gave him an accusatory glance.

 

"Don't look at me like that. I didn't know!" He gasps, abruptly looking betrayed, "Why didn't you _tell_ me? I thought we were bros."

 

"Can you take something seriously for _once_ in your life, Tony?!" Steve snapped, and was promptly ignored by said playboy.

 

Peter shrank back fearfully, "I didn't want anyone to know." He gives Wade an unhappy look. " _He_ wasn't even supposed to know!"

 

"I'm just smart like that," the merc informed them smugly.

 

The Captain frowns deeply, suddenly looking a lot older than he was.

 

"...and I didn't want to be forced to join SHIELD."

 

"Ah," Tony purses his lips, "Fair point."

 

" _Tony_."

 

"Steve," Ironman countered. "Come on, even you know SHIELD is shady as fuck. You can't blame the kid for being sneaky." He pauses, shaking his head. "I'm actually pretty impressed he managed to hide it from me! Also hurt, but mostly impressed."

 

" _I'm_ a part of SHIELD, Tony." Steve sounded resigned, as if this was something that had been discussed frequently.

 

"And you won't tell them a thing," the philanthropist said smugly, "because he works for _me_. Not you. Me. Avengers _consultant_."

 

Peter isn't entirely sure what that was supposed to mean, but he perked up with hope anyway.

 

Steve eyes Tony irritably, but Peter can see something fond mixed in.

 

"Are you two dating," Wade pipes up cheerfully, "cause let me tell you, it is so _obv_ -" he's silenced by Peter's elbow in his side.

 

The Captain ignores them both, going pink about the ears. " _Fine_ , but he's _your_ responsibility."

 

Tony smiles winningly. "Of course." He turns to Peter, "as for you--you should probably take a day off. You're bleeding from the mouth a little." There's a spark of concern in his bright eyes, so Peter agrees.

 

Wade volunteers to take him home, much to Steve's dismay. Tony seems to convince him with a look, however, and they're out the tower and heading to the metro in minutes.

 

"...so, uh, hows the teeth?" Wade inquires, desperately ignoring the stares of people in the subway as they wait for the train to arrive. Crowds made him terribly nervous.

 

Peter glances up at him in surprise before fiddling with the sleeves of his lab coat shyly. It hadn't been a dream, then. "It kind of hurts. It doesn't heal like the rest of me does."

 

The merc hums in interest, brows furrowed. He joins the younger on the train, carefully separating him from the rest to give him ample space in the crowd.

 

'Ample space' being pressed rather close to Wade, that is. The merc was only an inch away, and the younger could feel the heat radiating off his body as if he were a furnace. Not for the first time he wonders how Wade managed to get so muscular.

 

"...How did you know someone was infiltrating the tower?" Peter eventually asks, for lack of anything else to say. He fought his blush desperately, hoping that Wade wouldn't notice it in the weak light of the cart.

 

The merc grinned down at him. "Logan told me! He didn't want to deal with it, so he left it to me, like he usually does."

 

Logan seemed to be the only one who could get Deadpool to do something. Despite his gruff demeanor they were surprisingly close, Logan being one of the few people to actually understand Wade.

 

Peter was, to be honest, a little jealous.

 

The subway screeched to a halt. Caught off guard in his musings, Peter toppled right into Wade, nearly sending the both of them to the ground.

 

The moment seemed to be suspended in time. Peter caught himself by pressing his hands against the merc's wide chest, sliding down a couple of inches as the cart lurched. Wade caught him in his arms and steadied the both of them.

 

Peter thought his face would catch on fire.

 

"I-I'm sorry!" He splutters, hating how his voice cracks. He can see Wade's slow grin through his mask, _fuck_.

 

Groaning into his hands, peter leaves the cart to join the rest of the crowd. He pauses, gathering his courage once he's out.

 

It takes significantly longer than he had anticipated; Wade had followed him all the way to flat by the time he was ready.

 

"Wade," he starts hesitantly, leaning on his front door nervously. There's no one else around; it's just the two of them in the dim hallway of a quiet apartment. "I know that...that we haven't really known each other for a long time or anything. And I've kind of never seen your face. And I'm actually a really boring person? I mean, no, wait, that's not..."

 

Wade's hands are on his face. His long fingers trace Peter's cheeks and the hollows of his eyes lovingly, tracing the contours of his jaw.

 

"Trust me, Peter," the merc sounded _wretched_ , his voice fraught with agony. "You don't want me." It was as if all of his insecurities had fallen on him at once. Peter was perfect--why would he want someone like Wade?

 

Peter’s heart cracked at the sound; he caught the receding digits and held them close. He didn't understand the sudden turn. He couldn't even voice his confusion.

 

Wade seemed to understand. He recedes carefully and, haltingly, takes off his mask.

 

His face is twisted with more than just emotion. Scar tissue is all that’s left of his skin; it’s full of scabs and ridges of mangled flesh. Some parts look worse than others; most of the tissue seems new, and as Peter watches in morbid fascination he can see the skin constantly _shifting;_  sinking, receding and regenerating at a near constant pace, leaving some parts with little to no skin at all.

 

“...makes you want to puke, huh?” the merc lets out a bitter laugh. “I wouldn’t blame you. I did.”

 

Peter sucks in a breath through his teeth. He reaches up, pausing just inches from Wade’s surprised face. He has to know. “Does it...hurt?” His voice is hushed.

 

Wade is quiet. “...Sometimes,” he whispers, so low Peter has to strain to hear him properly. “It’s worse when I’m trying to sleep.” He lets out a shuddering sigh when Peter’s hand strokes his cheek. The ever present pain seems to recede somewhat.  He’s caught between relief and confusion, as if it were too good to be true.

 

Then Peter is there against him, kissing him, and it’s like a dream all in one. His lips are soft and the angle is awkward but Wade doesn't care because it’s Peter--sweet, kind, _loving_ Peter. The hero who knew who he was and what he did but still seemed to love him anyway.

 

His heart felt ready to burst out of his own chest with the complete adoration he had for Peter. Maybe they were going a little fast, yes, but Wade didn't care, not when Peter's fingers were stroking his flaming skin instead of flinching away.

 

Not when he smiled and laughed so breathlessly when they pulled apart.

 

_Definitely_ not when he came back for more.

  
  


(Later, when they're sharing the couch watching Gilmore Girls, Wade asks why. Peter could only smile and list, one by one, each and everyone one of the reasons why. It was a long list.

  
Wade was happy to listen.) 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for motivating me with all your kind comments, everyone! This is the end, but don't worry. You'll be seeing more of Spidey and Deadpool in later works!


End file.
